


Rocky Mountain High

by fleurlb, SmoothDoggie



Category: Leverage
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurlb/pseuds/fleurlb, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoothDoggie/pseuds/SmoothDoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time off from the team should be relaxing, peaceful and fun.... will the team mates get to spend their time as they had planned, or will someone throw a spanner in the works? Featuring appearances from Colonel Michael Vance and Tom Shelley too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rocky Mountain High

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musingmidge77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingmidge77/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to MusingMidge77 – I hope that you enjoy this story, dedicated to you as part of the Leverage Secret Santa Gift Exchange. With every best wish to you and yours for a safe, secure and peaceful Christmas and New Year period. 
> 
> A huge thank you also to Mica (Valawenel) for checking over and helping greatly with my story. I wish to you and yours, also, a very Merry Christmas.
> 
> Posted, but definitely not written, by fleurlb.

  
[](http://postimage.org/)  
  


  


“Oh, so you mean pretzels, maybe later mama?” Hardison waggled his eyebrows suggestively towards the lithe blonde, carrying a plate of garlic bread towards the table in their office in downtown Portland. The Leverage Team were getting ready to eat dinner after completing another complicated job that very afternoon. Eliot had prepared his infamous Lasagna, with side-salad and garlic bread.

 

Sophie wasn’t sure she wanted to hear anymore, and while she wasn’t technically eavesdropping, it was beginning to feel a lot like that. Topping up her wine glass, she had gone to the refrigerator to replace the white wine bottle, when she’d overheard them at the kitchen entryway. Excusing herself to pass between the younger team members, Sophie was glad their latest job was over. It had been a relatively simple job, though some members of the team had been more involved than others, and were therefore wearier, and no doubt ready for their brief vacation.

 

She looked up from under the wavy bangs that were hiding her eyes, and hopefully hiding her from obvious inclusion in this conversation. Happy to note that Parker’s face shone brightly, a little flushed at the suggestion from Hardison, with her eyes glistening as though she was admiring a giant jewelry haul.

 

“Where shall we go?” That was Parker distracted from setting the table now, and Eliot’s sigh was apparent from the kitchenette.

 

“Dinner’s up folks,” Eliot’s voice floated through from the same room his sigh had seconds earlier.

 

Moments later, he exited the kitchen, excusing himself as he walked between Hardison and Parker, and deposited the large crockpot filled with pasta sauce and bolognaise on the table.

 

As Nate pulled her seat out, she noticed Eliot whipping out the serving spoons from his back pockets, before flipping them into the air and landing them right into the serving dishes.

 

“Et voila!” the chef surmised.

 

“Smells delicious Eliot, thank you,” Nate said as he took his own seat.

 

“Isn’t that French?” Parker asked.

 

“Yeah, it was.” Eliot shrugged nonchalantly.

 

“But you’ve cooked Italian food,” she continued, “Surely you should have said something in Italian?”

 

“He probably don’t know any Italian,” Hardison spoke conspiratorially, as he leant across to serve himself some garlic bread, “except those words he uses to get the ladies into his bed.”

 

“So you use Italian as your code for sex?” It was getting awkward now, and Sophie didn’t think anything good could come from the rest of this conversation, if it carried on. She glanced at Nate, who looked equally as uncomfortable, though as usual he seemed uninterested in involving himself. And, before she could change the subject successfully, Parker started to laugh, and wasn’t using her human laugh, but her crazy lady laugh – the one that sounded like an asthmatic seal, barking.

 

“How many ladies have fallen for that Eliot?” Parker looked positively gleeful as she bounced closer to the hitter. Sophie wished she hadn’t done that; Eliot had taken the brunt of the hits this week and no doubt his tether was heavily unraveled already, and that was before this farcical scene befell them.

 

“That’s not the sort of question to ask anyone, Parker.” Sophie tried to interject.

 

“Eliot doesn’t mind, we all know he’s a slag.” The sound of cutlery being dropped around the table was palpable.

 

“Whoa, Momma, you can’t go calling anyone…” Hardison at least tried to calm the situation, but it seemed that Parker was too hyped up after her week of relative boredom, to stop at any cost.

 

“That’s not a nice thing to say Parker,” Sophie interjected over Hardison’s own sentence. Not her usual politeness, but she felt she had to say something. It might have been part of Parker’s innate charm, that she was innocent beyond belief, but not to the point where she blatantly insults her own friends.

 

Eliot’s face had dropped when Parker called him a slag, and it still hadn’t lifted as he continued to serve himself some lasagna. He had retrieved the silverware he’d initially dropped, and was obviously planning on how to get the hell out of there. He was already hiding behind his hair; something that Sophie had noticed him do. It was something he did less frequently these days, hiding from the people who’d practically become his de-facto family. They knew him inside out these days, so the reasons why he might have hidden himself from view, were less obvious lately. Either that or he continued to do it when he was madder than hell, and couldn’t bear to look at anyone.

 

The table calmed to a marked silence and they ate in relative silence once more. The meal was coming to a close, and time for them to have any dessert the hitter might have made. Parker and Hardison began to speak quietly between themselves again. They were making plans for the following week, a conference about comics for Alec, and Parker might meet up with him, but she explained that she had a few things she wanted to check out herself beforehand.

 

“Maybe we can meet up at that hotel,” he leaned closer, “you know, the one where we…”..

 

“Guys,” growled the southerner, “do you two know how to be in any way subtle?” He returned his fork to the plate, considerably louder than he’d first planned. “There’s just a time and a place for…that.” Spencer tried to sound less grumpy, but she noted he was failed completely. “Well, just sometimes… you should keep those private things to yourselves.” Eliot’s voice interrupted the somewhat awkward silence that had befallen the room.

 

“Jealousy’s a nasty look on you man,” the hacker bantered back with the hitter.

 

“Oh, like you kept all that stuff with Moreau to yourself?” Parker’s face showed signs that she knew what she had said was wrong. It was nothing akin to what Eliot was talking about; this was going to head nasty quickly.

 

“Ain’t nothing like that, and you know it, Parker,” came the hitter’s spluttered retort.

 

“A secret, is a secret,” Parker practically nah-nahhed the cowboy, whose temper was swiftly rising. “You said when Sophie took the Second David, you don’t con your own team.”

 

“I wasn’t trying to con you,” Eliot tried to convey emphatically. “I was trying to protect you from Moreau.”

 

“I’m beginning to think you actually enjoyed what you did for him!” Parker’s words flew from her mouth, probably just as she realized that she’d overstepped the mark.

 

Sophie’s gasp was audible and the look of shock on Nate’s face was palpable. _Why on earth had Parker said that, dragging up old pain for the hitter?_

 

“Parker!” Nate admonished. “There was no…”

 

"It’s fine," he growled, “ain’t like she’s wrong.”

 

They all knew that Parker had made a huge mistake, but Sophie couldn’t fathom why Parker hadn’t seen that Eliot had made those choices in order to protect them, rather than hurt them. Trying to clear up his past, rather than reveal it to the team. It was as painful to him, as indeed all their own pasts had haunted them in the teams earlier days.

 

“Gonna head out," the hitter spoke quietly, head down as he excused himself from the table. “See y’all next week.”

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

He had to get out of there. Escape from their equally matching disheartened stares, the ones which told him clearly just how much they’d been let down by his forced disclosure regarding his time with the evil gangster Moreau.

 

Eliot felt as though his breath had been physically beaten from his lungs, as he left the apartment and pseudo office to head straight for his truck. Thank goodness he’d already loaded it for his fishing trip. He was hoping to get an early start the next morning, after their now-traditional post-wrap supper. Considering how this evening had gone so far, it was beneficial that he’d get an early start; maybe even get some time on the trails prior to meeting the others. He knew he just couldn’t stay there, inside that office with all of them looking at him like that, knowing what they were thinking. The entire night stuck in traffic would have been better than him spending the entire evening going over and over this fiasco, trying to make them understand why he had handled things the way he did. Continually defending himself over something he believed that he was doing to keep them safe.

 

Eliot knew in his heart that Parker hadn’t truly meant what she’d said, but deep down he had hoped to have moved-on from that particular error in judgment. He’d certainly hoped that the team had moved past it. Clearly, he’d been wrong.

 

However, there was another thing that was bothering him slightly more. He felt something that evening, something that he hadn’t felt in years - heartache. His worry was two fold; firstly, a hitter with a conscience is one that needed to retire; and secondly, why couldn’t they realize he’d covered it all up to protect them, to keep them safe. He hadn’t kept it from them out of malice. His first thought had been of their safety: like always.

 

Climbing into his truck, he knew that if he’d looked back, Sophie would be at the window, looking out for him. For some reason, he was feeling spectacularly unworthy of her sympathy. He’d brought this on himself.

 

His thoughts brought about a melancholy he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe he was fooling himself by thinking he could stay in one place. Maybe he was wrong in hoping he could have a family around him again. All the time he’d thought he was repaying his debts to society by helping people who’d been thoroughly screwed over by the system, and hopefully earning some positive karma, but maybe he was fooling himself. Maybe his past would always haunt him and nothing could save him from the man he was, nothing and no one.

 

*

*

*

*

*

 

Parker never really considered that she might ever be able to see directly into Eliot's eyes so clearly and deeply; like his armor had failed and she could see straight into his mind. He was always so guarded and secretive. Whereas now, he looked fragile and a little bit defeated, like she’d physically wounded him. She saw his fists clench immediately, before he quickly relaxing again, almost as quickly as they had formed in the first place.

 

Parker wished she could stuff those words back into her mouth, and swallow them down never to be heard again. Eliot had always protected her, treated her like a big brother would have, by protecting her like he already proved many times over. _What had she done?_

 

“Why did I say that? I know that I shouldn’t have,” Parker spoke to the astonished team members remaining at the table, “What have I done? Maybe, I should go after him.”

 

“No, darling.” Sophie placed her soft, warm hand upon hers, while Hardison kept his arm draped across her shoulder. All of them were sullen and distracted from anything that went before, including their former celebrations over another job well done. “Let him go. Talk to him tomorrow, call him up when he gets up to Colorado.”

 

“It wasn’t all that bad Parker,” Hardison tried to reassure her. “He’s a big boy, don’t even see why he had to go and spoil dinner over it.”

 

“I would think it would be perfectly obvious why he was upset Alec,” Nate’s voice came from nowhere, almost as though they’d all forgotten he was there. “He’s a human being at the end of the day, and he has a heart just like the rest of us.”

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

Nate had listened for long enough; yes there was always a sharp banter between the three younger members of the team. He’d never thought to put a stop to it, because he’d assumed they used it to distract themselves from the more difficult sides of their jobs. Used it to keep themselves in check, because they’d spent so long working alone, not entirely used to working together on such projects.

 

He should have seen that Eliot was more tired than normal, and his temper was on a shorter fuse currently. He should have asked the southerner what was going on, instead now it’s become a ‘thing’ and he’s gone for another week. No chance of finding out now. Parker’s quiet and delicate voice penetrated his thoughts.

 

“I’ll talk to him Nate, I promise,” Parker spoke with a maturity that Nate wasn’t previously sure the blonde thief even had inside of her. Her very answer had just boosted his pride in her adjustment to normal life.

 

Nate always feared there would be repercussions from Eliot’s discretion and handling of his connections with Moreau. Though his loyalty could never be questioned, it was clear that his initial choice to hide his connections to the evil arms dealer. He had always questioned his own cover-up of the warehouse scene. To begin with, he feared the team would show their fear of Eliot’s darker side, to him – physically. Now, however, he believed it had been a mistake: full disclosure from now on. He would ponder the timing and let Eliot know he planned to tell the team, and tonight was a prime example of why.

 

His reasons… well, for one, the team had no clue exactly what the hitter had done to save him, and the mysterious Italian lady, that day, what he had sacrificed within himself in order to protect the team. Nate felt sullen when he considered what Eliot would have sacrificed within himself in that warehouse. Nate knew that their trained killer actually hated killing, he hated the man he’d been for Damien Moreau, hated everything the Government had required him to do for their Country, and in the name of their Country. All of the things he’d done to keep the United States from losing its security, or place in the World order.

 

There were a great number of people and places that owed its freedom and very safety to that young man, and many more men and women similar to him. He’d signed his name on the dotted line, in order to fight for his Country, and for those fellow Americans, and other smaller Countries that couldn’t fight for themselves. Nate suspected that the team wouldn’t be entirely proud of some of the things that Eliot Spencer had done throughout his short this lifetime. But, in the same vain, he was sure that they would be extremely proud of some of the other things their team mate, and brother, had done for them and others, over the years. The things they didn’t know about, and weren’t likely to ever find out about either.

 

He wished at times that Sam had grown up, not just for the obvious reasons, but because he wished that his son had been as brave as Eliot was at times. He also wished he’d been braver and actually told the young man how he felt about him, and how proud he was of him.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

Seeking solace away from the team, Eliot drove straight to Harvey’s private airfield, where one of Eliot’s shell companies was now the proud owner of a hangar; and that’s where he housed his secret project. He’d been working on this during the Team’s down time, and had logged enough hours the previous summer to qualify for his Private Pilot License. After logging his flight plan, he continued onto his pre-flight checks. When he’d finished checking Betsy, his fully restored Beechcraft Musketeer, over thoroughly, the hitter took her up and pointed her towards Denver. They were taking at least one weeks break, before they were planning on taking another job, and while the team assumed he was driving all the way to Colorado, instead he was going to enjoy his very private flight.

 

There was also the slight delight in having kept this part of his life secret. Firstly that he was a fully qualified pilot, and secondly, had his own plane, hangar and private airfield in Beaverton. It had taken some finagling when they moved across from LA, but nothing he couldn’t manage with a shell company, or two.

 

Rather than drive all the way and arrive in the Rocky Mountain range dead tired - he was enjoying his evening dancing amongst the stars in a cloudless sky. There was an unadulterated serenity to looking at a dark sky littered with glittering stars; especially when viewed from the trail sans light pollution from the big city. Parker and her rooftops was one thing, but he’d bet that she’d love the view from up here.

 

A few hours later he arrived in Colorado – at Granby-Grand Airfield – where he had asked Shelley to stow his truck. Eliot was feeling tired, but invigorated. The flight had awakened his senses and helped to clear his bad mood.

 

Pointing his truck in the right direction, he fired her up and set off for his next stop of the night. He had many secrets and amongst them was his secret hideout in the Rockies, not a million miles from Shelley at Grand Lake – but far enough away to keep prying eyes from their doors.

 

Thirty minutes later saw him drop his kit off at his cabin. Eliot set the fire for his return and opened up the shutters to let the place breathe. Even though it was mid September, it was still sunny enough, or rather it would be when the day broke fully.

 

He got his head down for an hour or so, before showering and eating a hearty breakfast. It was time for a little walk on the trails before meeting up with his friends later that evening.

 

He was part way along the trail when his mobile phone rang. He knew he should talk to her, but the child in him just wanted to ignore her and get on with his walk. It was a balmy thirty-five degrees Fahrenheit and the sun was shining; he just wanted to enjoy his time away from the team. There was no question to his loyalties, or to his feelings towards the team. They had wheedled their way into his affections, and it was for that reason alone that he consistently put himself in harms way to defend them all. It was not a job borne out of satisfaction, but one of duty, a duty to the person beside him and behind him.

 

Before he knew it, the pain from the previous night struck back at him like a venomous snake. He was blinded by pain and couldn’t work out what it was that was upsetting him so much. He hadn’t felt that pain in many years.

 

The anger he felt burned through him like acid cutting through his esophagus and into his lungs. Each and every breath felt like shavings of glass permeating his lungs. He tried to calm himself down, breathing in and out as he had learned, but it wasn’t just anger that assailed him that night. Eliot was hurt, he felt pains he hadn’t felt since he was younger, the same damn pains that set him on this rapid path of self-destruction during his short life. He could barely believe that the pain felt the same, though it was unmistakable. There was no other feeling like it in the world: heartache.

 

The trail snaked around the side of a mountain with a sheer drop to the right. He was somewhere along the rising side of the National Trail and there should have been a better view, but it had been wiped out by the misty clouds still tumbling against the dewy grass, and fighting against the warm sun of a bright new day. A few trees twisted out of the side of the hill with leaves as hard as thorns.

 

Without truly focusing on any of the beauty around him, he stomped along the trail. It was all that he could manage to expend some of his frustrations, at first the anger, and secondly how much it had wounded him to see such fragility in Parker’s piercing blue eyes. He’d known for a while that he felt more for the beautiful young thief, more than he should; more than that of what a sibling would, or should. That said he was fairly sure it was a definite against the bro’s code to harbor feelings for said bro’s girl. And, that was unlikely to win him any popularity awards, if Hardison ever found out: strike that, he couldn’t risk Parker ever working it out.

 

An owl screeched loudly from his left, which made him twitch. He’d totally engrossed himself in his frustrations, and neglected his surroundings. He had no idea where he was on the trail, and secondly, it was further proof to himself that he needed to nip his feelings in the bud, as they were already distracting him. His job was too dangerous to risk getting caught daydreaming. This had to stop. He had to stop.

 

The trail itself wasn’t particularly difficult to navigate, as it wasn’t overly high on the mountain. That said, the weather this high in the mountain was treacherous; the fog beneath his path rose without any warning, shoved by a gust of cold wind. He turned around to orientate himself, yet in a matter of seconds he was engulfed in a thick cloud.

 

He took only a dozen steps when he felt the ground under his feet change: he’d stepped off the trail, not seeing it. His foot caught on a wet stone, and he stumbled forward.

 

Before he knew it, he was falling, tumbling through the mist, he didn’t feel anything, but the last thought of Parker going through his mind. One minute he was enjoying the brisk pace he’d set himself and the fresh wind, blowing gently at a higher than average seasonal high of thirty-five degrees Fahrenheit. The next minute, it’s all gone dark.

 

*

*

*

*

*

*

 

Tom Shelley had been a field medic serving with the special ops unit lead by Mike Vance, teamed up with Dan Savage and Eliot Spencer. They’d all hit it off during their pre-deployment training, right before their first big job together. Of course, he had other duties including being the spotter in a sniping pair. Since then, those four had depended on each other, and no one else. Right up until that day when their friend and brother in arms, Dan Savage had been taken from them. Between this and good old Military bureaucracy, something else he’d noticed Spencer was finding harder to deal with each day, meant the end for Eliot. Red tape orders had meant Dan had been left behind, where he’d been lost.

 

It was a decision they’d all taken hard, but Spencer had been backing Savage up that day, and through sheer dumb luck a stray bullet took him clean out of the game. It was obvious Eliot blamed himself, followed swiftly by blaming the government that had sent them to that particular shithole in the first place. He’d up and quit, before Vance could talk him out of it, and before he’d even got to talk it over with him.

 

It was years before he’d seen Spencer again. That night in Boston was the start of more regular gatherings together, and even some of the old Spencer character could still be found in the steely-eyed killer that had stood before him.

 

Things had gotten awful murky for a good long while, but with Spencer now in Portland, Oregon, with a legitimate team of ex-crooks, doing good deeds for those who couldn’t seem to get justice through any legal system – it seemed like the old reliable Eliot Spencer was back with them. He really seemed to have fought whatever demon had been riding him, and while he was even quieter than usual, he was more like the country boy they’d known close on twenty years.

 

Of course, all that wet work for Moreau had given him a real edge. A dark side that none of them wanted to ever see firsthand. They’d all known what he was capable of, and that was before the devil had ripped out what was left of his heart and let him loose on society with a knife. As far as they were aware, he’d never picked up another gun since that round exploded upon exiting Dan’s neck. From their other sniper’s nest, Shelley had actually seen the whole incident unfold through his binoculars. There had been nothing that any of them could have done, but that didn’t stop the downward spiral of survivor’s guilt in the younger soldier.

 

Now, Tom Shelley ran The Roadhouse, an out of the way tavern off Grand Lake in the Rocky Mountains, Colorado. He’d been here a couple of years and had settled nicely into the quiet ways of the mountains. Even helped out with local Mountain Rescue when he was needed, putting his field medic training to good use. Finally, he was at peace with the world.

 

As for this weekend, he was settling in for a raucous time with his boys. The same weekend they’d tried to make a vague tradition since they’d met back up in Boston, three-years previously. Vance was coming over from DC the following morning and should be with him at lunchtime. Spencer hoped to be with them just after lunch. He’d already stowed Spencer’s truck at the local airfield, Granby, for him to collect upon arrival.

 

He wondered if Eliot had told his team yet; he loved his secrets, damn fool. The team would be nothing but happy for him passing his Pilot’s License so quickly. No doubt, they’d get a real kick out of him flying them around in his Musketeer. She was a beauty, and incredibly Spencer had yet to take him out for a flight. Maybe he’d talk him into taking him out this week coming. Of course, regular visits anywhere were not ideal, unless you have help with personal security. And, the fact that Granby’s airport security was known by the whole team, being either ex Rangers or Marines themselves, made things much easier for them all to be around regularly. Spencer & Vance’s arrivals would be kept on the down low; of that he could be sure.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

Eliot wasn’t entirely sure what it had been that made him wake up just then. He’d clearly had a deep sleep, because he couldn’t even recall going to bed, or so he thought. It was the smell of damp leaf mold and dewy moss that caused him even more confusion. That was, until he recalled his grumpy and madly distracted mood that morning, upon arriving on the western Trail entrance. Why on earth did he hurt so much? It felt like his ribs were all smashed; maybe it had been one hell of a bar fight instead. But, why was he so tired?

 

Sure he’d found the flight a little tiring but he’d recalled sleeping, even a few hours in his cold cabin had been worth it. 

 

Sensibly he’d rethought his original plan to get his head down in the truck at the airfield, because it had been so cold overnight. Instead, he’d headed straight to his own place for some shuteye, before heading to walk the trail after first light. He even recalled thinking about how this entire week away from the team would have helped to exorcise his lingering bad mood. He had planned on taking time to check into his own place before dinner with Shelley and Vance, rather than waiting until Sunday morning, when he would likely be feeling a great deal more hung-over. It had made sense, especially considering he’d promised his two friends Sunday lunch, consisting of his famous chili beef burgers. They’d even planned to fish out on the lake. All in all, a quiet weekend with his brothers, knee deep with his trusted old friend; mother nature. What more could a man want?

 

He realized his eyes were still closed, and he couldn’t open them. His head hurt more than it rightly should, even after a bottle of Jack and several more beers than he’d needed to imbibe. Trouble was, Eliot couldn’t remember meeting up with Shelley and Vance, never mind downing enough hard liquor to cause this sore of a head.

 

He tried moving, to see if his simple hangover causing all this pain, when his miniscule movement left him wracked with a judder of harsh shivers; then he knew he was in trouble. Something told him that he hadn’t made it past his first plan, of walking the trail, and the fact it was much cooler than he’d recalled it being, meant it was almost dark again outside, and the temperature had fallen towards zero.

 

He had a bad feeling about this.

 

The mild, and warm sunny morning had long since passed, with a considerably chillier evening settling in around him. An overwhelming scent of damp moss and leaf mold melded along with the unwelcome sensation of dank moistness that he felt beneath him, as he lay on the unforgiving rocky floor. These unwelcome sensations were accompanied by the sound of dripping water.

 

 _Thank goodness he’d been trained to withstand torture._ Twilight was clearly upon him, meaning he’d been laying here for hours, and the uneasy stiffness he could also feel deep within his body caused another wrack of shivers to flow right through him.

 

Blinking to clear his blurred vision, he tried to raise his head from the unforgiving terrain, to no avail. Instead, he raised his hand to his head, and began to feel across his scalp for any injuries from his suspected stumble. Back of his head was where he found the ovoid shape; this bump was big and his fingers felt damp upon touching the egg shaped lump. It was hurting much too much to go near it for any longer than absolutely necessary to assess his injuries. He almost passed out at the pain this caused him. Wincing, he blinked and tried raising his head to look around in the feint light that flowed down from the crisp moonlight that hung above. He steeled himself once more to make another attempt at moving, as he couldn’t just lie there; he knew that he would have to move at some point.

 

After another futile attempt, his concern turned to his state of mind. Why were his thoughts so fuzzy? He was usually much more proactive in his mind, always thinking several steps ahead of his nemeses, and undoubtedly he should have an extraction plan somewhere in his confused mind. With his arms, he reached out, left and then right, his hand connected with a fabric strap, his rucksack. Dragging it closer to his right side, he turned his head to inspect his find. The dizziness caused him to vomit. Concussion. Just what he needed!

 

Clearing the acid bile from his mouth was literally the last thing he ever wanted to repeat. Opening his eyes again caused such dizziness, he was unlikely to forget; though he was pretty sure he’d never want to remember it, either. His hand reached into the sack for a bottle of water, one he was sure he’d placed inside. Finding it was easy enough, even with his eyes closed again. Unscrewing the cap was decidedly tougher than it should have been. He felt as weak as a newborn kitten.

 

Finally, he rinsed his mouth out, which brought about a thirst he was previously unaware of. He took small sips, sensibly, his training beginning to kick back in. Lying flat again, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth as deeply as his wounded chest would permit, he began to formulate a plan.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a shrill, whistling sound, Eliot’s eyes sprung open unleashing another wave of nausea. His mobile phone; _again, why hadn’t he thought of that?_ He felt along his body until he located the vibrating noise machine. Lifting it closer to his head, he answered.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

“I thought you said he was definitely coming back this weekend.” Michael Vance asked across the bar, as he swirled his first glass of Jack around the ice inside.

 

“Yep, he rang and told me he was on his way last night; a little earlier than planned.” Tom Shelley wiped down the last of lunchtime’s customers flatware and glasses, before placing them back up on the shelf. All while he was chatting with the first of his private guests to arrive. “I checked with Alan’s crew up at the airfield, they told me that Betsy is parked up and his truck is gone.”

 

The Roadhouse on Granby Lake, Colorado, off Highway 34 was going to be their home for the next few days. It was unsurprising that they seemed to find the rustic luxury somewhat charming at this old place. Checking out their individual bedrooms usually unearthed more surprises, not to mention heavy duvets, blanket boxes and roaring open fires lit in each one. Historically there was history of the Ute and Arapaho Indian tribes in the area nearby, up until recent times.

 

“I guess he’s gone up to his cabin first, if he arrived that early then he may have slept it off up there. Let’s call him and see when he’ll be down.” Vance plucked his cell from his jeans pocket and found Spencer’s number. Dialing the phone, he placed it on the bar before opting for speakerphone mode.

 

After the fifth ring, it connected and it sounded like Spencer was in a recording booth, all tin-ny and echo-ey.

 

“Where are you man?” Shelley laughed into the cell phone.

 

“Dunno…” Silent pause, “think… I fell… can’t ‘mber,” came the feint reply. It sure sounded like Eliot Spencer, and as he wasn’t the ‘punking’ type, because no one was more serious about such things, they opted to believe he wasn’t wasting their time.

 

The soldiers were on their feet in an instant. Vance handed the cell phone to Tom Shelley, while he snatched up the other man’s cell phone. He dialed a number in Portland that he’d memorized, just in case.

 

“Nathan Ford,” came the formal reply of the mastermind.

 

“It’s Vance; we got a problem.”

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

“Nathan Ford,” answered the team leader, bored already by his first shopping trip with Sophie. While he would never tire of spending time with her, shopping, really? He just couldn’t face much more without a drink. Surely, she must already own two of absolutely everything ever made, and sold.

 

“It’s Vance; we got a problem,” came a serious male voice down the phone.

 

“I’m guessing it’s too much to hope you’ve just run out of beer?” deadpanned the mastermind.

 

“Smart ass. Goddamn it Ford, he’s lying injured somewhere on the trail. He can’t tell us where. You got that geek kid there with you?” Vance’s request sounded so much more like an order. It made Nate grateful he’d never joined up. For operational security he would never have mentioned Eliot’s name over the phone, not and give his position away at the same time, though Nate instantly knew it was Eliot the senior man was referring to.

 

“I’ll get him on the case, and ring you straight back. This number okay to use?” Nate asked as he motioned for Sophie to wrap it up swiftly.

 

“Yep, it’s Tom Shelley’s. We’ll get out there and ready to go. You might need to bring Tom some medical back up.”

 

Nate ended the call without acknowledger the inference from Colonel Vance regarding Eliot’s possible injuries. Instead, he hit speed dial for the hacker, quietly pondering what on earth had happened to the young southerner that left him unable to even tell them where he was. That didn’t sound like the Eliot Spencer he knew.

 

“Come on Hardison, answer the phone.” Nate tapped idly as he waited for the hacker to wake up and answer his phone. Early afternoons were like morning to the youngster, who mostly spent all night battling orcs and gnomes.

 

“What’s the matter Nate?” enquired Sophie.

 

“Eliot’s had an accident, his military buddies are close by, but they can’t locate his exact position, I need Hardison to….”

 

A sleepy voice answered the phone after a good few rings.

 

“Hardison, how quickly can you ping Eliot’s phone? We need an exact location, close as possible. Seems that he’s fallen off a trail, and can’t be found.” He truncated the information as much as possible.

 

“Holy shit, can’t that man do anything by half?” Hardison grumbled, but was instantly tapping on his keyboard, “I’m on it.”

 

“Is Parker there?” Nate enquired over the sound of keys being punched frantically on a keyboard.

 

“Nah man, she left around midnight.”

 

“Can you find her too, please? We’ll go and pick her up. Meet us at the plane.” Nate wasn’t just briefing the hacker, as Sophie was close enough now to pick up on the information. “Text Sophie her coordinates, and I’ll have Eliot’s please.”

 

They were almost at the car service when Sophie’s phone signaled a text message arriving. She gave the driver the coordinates, and after placing them into his GPS he set off with them both aboard.

 

“I got him Nate,” Hardison’s voice once again interrupted his thoughts. “He’s in a ravine from the looks of it. I can’t get anything real-time, but there’s a picture I’m forwarding with better detail on it.”

 

“I see. Well done, meet us at the hub.” Nate cut the line and was dialing Tom Shelley’s phone in an instance.

 

“Looks like he’s in a ravine of some sort, I’m forwarding coordinates and a photo of the area. No real time imagery available.” The mastermind briefed the Company man succinctly.

 

“We’ll get right out there. You should be with us in about two hours. We should have him by then and more of an idea of what we’re dealing with,” Vance replied.

 

“We’ll be on our way shortly,” Nate reflected briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose, fighting off the suffocating sensation he was feeling. “Look after him, please.”

  
“Naturally, leave no man behind.” Vance countered with a chuckle before he closed his phone.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

“Ford said he’d be not far from this twenty meter radius.” Colonel Vance led the way along the North Inlet Trailhead with his GPS set to the coordinates Nate Ford had provided.

 

“There!” Shelley pointed, “Over there, there are signs of disturbance by those bushes.” Both men trudged over, dropping their kit down so they could check more thoroughly.

 

Spotting a dim light, and a flash of red & white, most likely Spencer’s trusty bandana. _What on earth caused him to go over there…?_

 

“I see a dim light, could be his phone.” Shelley looked closer, while Vance dialed Eliot’s number again. They hadn’t kept him on the phone, as his voice was slurring more and more. It was painful to listen to.

  
Eliot finally answered. “’at… took you… so long?”

 

Vance laughed out loud, almost in relief. They’ve found him, and Spencer sounded a little more lucid this time.

 

“How’re you doing down there?”

 

“Concussion… think… was out for… a while, …time is it?” he was clearly struggling to form full thoughts, maybe even a little confused.

 

“D’you think you can you climb out, with Tom’s help?”

 

“Yeah… think so…” The injured man replied.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

“Hey Spencer, was looking forward to meeting at the bar, rather than down here.” Shelley approached his former colleague who was laid out, prone, eyes closed. He noticed a distinct smell of vomit, and shone his torch to check usual medic type things: how much vomit and was there any blood etc. He remembered from his days serving with Eliot Spencer what a self-sacrificing SOB he was, and he would no sooner tell him how he was feeling, then sit and cry in front of you. Blood.

 

_Well, dammit all, that’s going to change things a little._

 

“So, what d’you remember?” Tom asked gingerly, settling down aside the former soldier. When Spencer didn’t answer, Shelley un-shouldered his kit bag, took his gloves off, and warned him before his hands went straight for Eliot’s head to start his exam.

 

“Dunno… I came... up here… after seven.” He tried to lick his lips, his mouth sounded dry. “Walked from… north-west entrance,” Spencer managed to talk but couldn’t seem to focus on him. Shelley wet his lips with a wet wipe.

 

“Ger…off.” Slurred Spencer, sounding like he’d drank every drop of Jack in the Roadhouse already. “Hurts.”

 

“Oh yeah, I bet it does, that’s quite some egg you got there.” Shelley teased the younger man. “Good job. Your head’s hard as wood, hey.”

 

“Can you open your eyes for me?” Tom said as he double clicked his smaller pocket torch.

 

“Nope, you’re… gonna blind… me…” Slower and slower the man spoke, his words considerably more slurred with each phrase. “With …‘at torch.”

 

“You know I gotta do it Spencer,” Tom batted away the kitten’s paws. “Come on now, quicker I do it, quicker it’s over. Then we can get outta here and get some drinking done.”

 

Individually, they both knew there’d be no drinking tonight. Spencer couldn’t hold his eyes open in the dark, never-mind with the torch. He’d been spewing and missing for at least eight hours. That meant he’d been unconscious most of the day thus far. This boy wasn’t going home, he was going straight to the Medical Center at Granby.

 

Taking out his phone, he texted his findings to Vance. No sense in scaring Spencer yet; he’d freak out enough when he found out where they were heading.

 

“Where’re the others?” Spencer’s voice sounded smaller all of a sudden, he was clearly concerned about his team. Shelley decided to tell him they were safe, that way he wouldn’t worry unnecessarily.

 

“Your team is all safe and sound.”

 

“Why ain’t… they… with us…’is time?” Now he was starting to scare Tom. That was some serious concussion already, but now he was getting confused too. Another text to Vance; he needed the team at Granby Medical Center on standby for their friend tonight.

 

The torchlight was a surprise for Eliot, but he had to check his reflexes and things just went from bad to worse right there, and then. The torchlight must have pierced the hitter’s eyelids and before Shelley could fling himself sideways, Spencer had thrown up over him. If the medic had thought that was bad, it nearly broke his heart when he heard what came next.

 

“Sorr…y Dan.”

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

“Oh boy, we got another job already?” Parker asked as she descended the high ropes at the children’s playground to find Nate and Sophie stood there.

 

“No sweetheart, we’ve come to get you because Eliot’s had an accident.” Sophie didn’t grift the team as a rule, but Nate sometimes found her very calming voice was extremely helpful.

 

“What happened?” the younger girl asked, her eyes full of worry and unshed tears, flitting between him and Sophie.

 

“We’ll explain in the car,” Nate said, encouraging the ladies along to the car with him, his arms out in a herding motion. “We’re all going to Colorado, plane’s fuelling.”

 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Parker somehow managed to sound younger to Nate just then, than at any time before. He always thought of her as crazy, same as the whole world probably did, but she was in fact a young, innocent little girl.

 

“We don’t know yet, but his old Ranger buddies are finding out more.” Nate knew that Parker would understand exactly whom he was talking about, knowing that she’d met and worked with Vance in Washington earlier that year.

 

“Whatever has happened, we'll deal with it together,” Sophie addressed the pale-faced blonde, “For now, we know that our friend needs help, alright?" Getting into the car, Nate opted for the front seat, leaving the ladies to get in the back. Once the doors closed, they were on the move.  
  
"Parker, we'll deal with everything else once we know that Eliot’s safe and sound." Sophie deliberately used her softest English accent, pulling Parker’s hand closer towards her. She clasped it in her own fortifying the strength she was assured they both felt, and hopefully conveying to the young girl that everything would once more be alright with their friend.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

Vance stood waiting as patiently as he possibly could at the top of the slope, getting more and more concerned with each text that came in from Shelley, who was dealing with Spencer at the bottom of the ravine.

 

Looking around with his flashlight, Vance struggled to see how an experienced operator could have fallen off the edge of the trail here: without a little help? It was supposed to be a quiet area where the three of them were known locally, but not for their professional skills, but for their fishing and drinking abilities. This was their safe place, where they could switch off from the outside worlds they lived in respectively. His thoughts interrupted by a sound from his phone; not a text this time, but a call from Nate Ford.

 

“We’ve found him; Tom’s checking him over now.” Vance answered with the update he knew Ford would be ringing for.

 

“Good to hear that.” Nate’s voice gave away his concern for the younger member of his team. “Can we talk to him?”

 

“Unlikely, looks like he’s been out for a few hours, at the very least. He’s got a serious concussion and is heading straight for the medical center, once we get him up from his landing spot.” No point in sugar coating it, his boss needed to know what was going on and although he’d give him the pertinent details, it was between them for now, that Spencer’s memory was a little scrambled. “I got a team coming up to meet us. I’ll text you the details. I take it you’re en-route?”

 

“I see, yes we’re less than an hour west of you by air. Should be with you in a few hours, tops.” The team leader’s voice was reflective; Vance should have known that Spencer would worm his way into the man’s affections. He did it to everyone he ever worked with, and he knew it only too well about it. Before Vance hung up, thinking the other man had closed the line, Nate’s voice continued. “How serious are we looking at?”

 

“Serious enough Ford. See you soon.” Vance closed the phone, hoping that was the last time he’d have to talk about injuries with a waiting family member again.

 

A text arrived, detailing what he assumed to be Eliot’s alias from the team. All it said was ‘Eliot Daniels SSN 892 06 7944, look after him for us please’.

 

Vance smiled at the last part, that kid sure has a way of wheedling his way into your heart.

 

“Seems he got to you too, Ford,” he said to no one in particular.

 

Deciding he couldn’t stand around here any longer without doing something more useful than arranging logistics, he dialed Tom’s number. At least he could pass on to Eliot that the remainders of his team were on their way.

 

“Hey,” came Tom’s greeting. Somber, he noted.

 

“How’s it going?” He asked carefully, not too loaded a question but hopefully the opening to give the medic a way to answer candidly.

 

“Gimme a sec,” he heard the young medic shift position, while he was busy getting frustrated by not being able to see what was happening down there. “He’s out again. Bad concussion from what I can see down here. He’s been out on the trail since 7am – Mike he’s been out here for hours. He said he was sorry to me, when he puked last time, but he called me Dan.”

 

“Shit.” Mike Vance sighed deeply. Not that shit all over again.

 

“He’s going to need a scan Mike, can you talk with his guys about ID etc.” Tom enquired. “Also, he’s going to need to be carried outta here.”

 

“Okay, give me five minutes,” He began to formulate a plan. “Tom, look after him.”

 

“Of course.”

 

A few phone calls later and a gentleman called Jack Harper appeared overhead in his rusty old chopper. A Vietnam Veteran who had never given up his flying skills, and had fortunately also decided to retire up in the Rockies. He and his bird Matilda had been dispatched by the Granby Medical Center to retrieve their patient.

 

Vance watched as Eliot was winched up, attached to Tom who was supporting the longhaired man’s heavily bandaged head. Once they were on board safely, the line was sent back down for Mike to latch on. He wasn’t going back off the trail on his own in the dark, and Tom needed to go with their patient. Attaching himself to the line, he signaled he was ready and his assent commenced.

 

As he was untying he noticed that Tom was very busy with the patient. Vance leaned through to the front, to thank the pilot for picking them up.

 

“Thank you Sir,” Mike spoke candidly; he was grateful, incredibly so. “Thank you for getting our friend off the trailhead.”

 

“No problem Son,” Jack Harper spoke with a wry smile, “it’s my pleasure to be useful again.”

 

Turning back Mike Vance moved closer to the patient’s side. He was shocked to see Eliot Spencer looking quite so lifeless, pale and grey looking, with blood soaked into the back of his hair and a distinct smell of vomit over his clothes.

 

“How’s he doing?” Mike asked the younger man, who was taking a breather.

 

“Hanging in there, but I don’t like his confusion or the fact he won’t stay conscious.”

 

“I hope he gets through this. Don’t know anyone whose life has been that tough, and still fights to survive each and everyday.”

 

“Did he always look that young?” Vance asked, after close examination of his friends face. It had been a few months since he’d seen him, and his hair had been even longer then.

 

“Yes, I think he did.” Tom Shelley wiped his hand down his face, hoping to wipe some of the tiredness from his eyes.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

Granby Medical Center, Granby Colorado was only twenty minutes by flight, and was the same by road, given that the mountains were in the way, and often people had to go all the way around them.

 

The trauma team greeted their arrival on the roof. Tom and Mike both thanked the elder Veteran with a swift and smart salute after shaking his hand. They explained that the three of them were once soldiers too and invited him to the Roadhouse next time he was passing for drinks on the house. Tom wasn’t overly worried about his loss in profits, as he knew they’d all be more than happy to buy the Veteran as many drinks as he wanted. After all, where would any of them be without the previous generation of Veterans?

 

Once Tom had passed over his findings to the trauma doctor, he and Mike were shown into the waiting room. An hour in and they were both getting antsy; no updates thus far and the while the coffee wasn’t bad, they would be climbing the walls if they had anymore of it.

 

The timely arrival of Eliot’s friends helped to ease some tension. They had much to discuss.

 

Sophie was concerned for Parker; she was starting to shiver. "Parker, sweetie, are you alright?" asking these questions were difficult as the answer was evident, but Sophie still needed to check how lucid Parker was.

 

"I'm fine, nothing wrong with me, Eliot's the one who fell and bumped his head… Why aren't they telling us anything?" Parker’s reply caught Sophie off guard. She had barely uttered a word since they collected her at the Park. It had felt like a long time since she had heard the young girls voice.

 

"The nurse was going to check and see if someone was free to come and update us." Nate tried to assuage them all, "You know what Eliot's like, and he’s probably giving them hell as we speak.”

 

This made Vance and Shelley both smile too. Clearly Nate hadn’t been too far from the truth. He added a slight smile in an attempt to lighten the uneasy atmosphere.

 

"I feel awful, Sophie," Parker spoke, though she continued staring directly towards the door, waiting to hear any news at all. "I've been thinking about it all evening, I thought about it all last night too.” Turning back towards her before she continued, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “This is all my fault Sophie, isn’t it?"

 

"Rubbish Parker! Yes, your comments were harsh and unnecessary. However cruel that was, we have no way to know what happened to Eliot." Sophie admonished the younger girl cautiously. She was fragile but she needed to know that this was not her fault. Sophie had no doubt that Eliot would find it in his heart to forgive her, just as soon as they could talk with each other.

 

"What if he doesn’t get better? Tom said his head was bad," Parker finally shed her tears, her own feelings of guilt for what she’d said to the hitter. "What if I never get to tell him I’m sorry?"

 

"Oh Parker." That started her own unshed tears to fall. "Of course you'll get to tell him.” Sniffling into a rapidly produced tissue from her handbag, Sophie passed another one to Parker.

 

_How could she persuade Parker that everything was going to be okay?_

 

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

 

Alec Hardison returned with a box laden with plastic cups, each filled with coffee, sugar and creamer sachets at the side.

 

“Thank you for getting his location to us,” Colonel Mike Vance, who he’d recognized from their time in DC, spoke to him and offered his hand.

 

Taking it and shaking hands with him, he replied, “No worries, glad I could help.” He was touched that the man had taken a moment to recognize his abilities.

 

“Yes, nice job Hardison,” Nate patted him on the back with his free hand, a coffee held tightly in the other. “You can enjoy telling Eliot all about it, when he wakes up.” Nate sounded genuinely proud of him.

 

He wasn’t that shallow that he needed to be praised every time he did something useful with his skills. No matter how mad those skills were. It was always nice to get a happy ending. He’d learnt that from Eliot, from Nate and from every client they’d helped over the past few years, together. He realized more and more that his skills could be used to do more than menace, or filter away funds. He had changed greatly in these past few years; he could feel it within himself.

 

Looking around the waiting room, he saw the ladies sat together quietly; both looking shocked and upset. Situations like this often left him feeling out of his depth. He didn’t know what to say to make them feel better about this situation. Eliot would know what to say, he’d have them feeling calm and probably cracking jokes. He wished he had the confidence and skills to do that. Maybe he could ask Eliot once he was feeling better, to help him with things like that.

 

He’d heard such awful things about the man before joining up with the Leverage team. After meeting him, he was initially unimpressed with the shorter man, with long hair and a cocky attitude. It didn’t take long before he was stood, jaw dropped, watching the hitter in action. Mesmerized by his pure close quarter combat skills, he’d likened it to watching a dance. Admittedly, something a little different than what you’d see in a club, but still choreographed artfully. Those skills were interesting enough, but the other life skills the hitter had displayed over that first quarter year of jobs, had left him rather impressed with the southerner.

 

He hoped they’d become good friends and he’d have someone around his own age to hang out with, maybe even learn from. It was like having a big brother of his own, at last. Thankfully, they’d gotten along well, after the bravado they’d both oozed initially had finally worn off.

 

It had been much like peacocks presenting their plumage, or men puffing out their chests. _He was buff enough, but he wasn’t getting into a chest-puffing competition with the hitter! No siree._

 

He’d taken an immediate shine to the somewhat kooky thief, Parker. Shy and unsure of himself, he’d held back all along. Before he knew it, they’d made so many references and jokes about their ‘pretzels’ that they’d never actually got around to moving past those few random kisses they’d shared while working.

 

He loved her. Of that he was sure, but it was more of a life-long friendship love, a mutual respect and strong bond that they formed together. Forged in steel. Not only would they not explore that other side to their relationship, but the more he witnessed it, the more he was sure that she harbored feelings for the team’s hitter.

 

She watched the hitter when he was looking at her, and Eliot was looking elsewhere. She helped him in the kitchen and he was always first to volunteer to help test her new rigs, which he was quite welcome to do.

 

Giving it more thought, as he had time to do, he pondered on the hitter’s feelings for Parker. _Could there be any chance he reciprocated her feelings?_

 

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

 

Naturally, that was the exact moment the doctor came in to update them on Eliot’s progress.

 

“Family of Eliot Daniels?” A young, attractive doctor looked up from her clipboard inquisitively. “I’m Doctor Greene.”

 

“The only family he’s got,” Mike stepped forward and shook the doctors hand. “These guys just got here, so your timing is perfect.”

 

“So it’s alright to speak with you all together?”

 

“Yes, Eliot would be fine with that Doctor,” Mike clarified, seeing that Nate was also nodding his head along with him.

 

“Well your friend was brought in showing signs of hypothermia and concussion. Given the length of time we believe he was exposed to the elements for a considerable time, hence the onset of hypothermia. In his case, a severe case of it.” Pausing to refer to her notes. “His concussion is of further concern, as he is having difficulty remaining conscious. We’ve given him a CT Scan and the Senior Consultant will be reviewing his results, as soon as they are ready.”

 

“Finally, I have questions about Mr. Daniels’ medical history. Who is best placed to help me with that?” The doctor scoured the room to see who stepped forward amongst this rag tag bunch of friends gathered here for the injured man.

 

“I can help with that,” Tom stepped forward, again with nodded agreement from both senior men. “I’m sure you’ll want to do that in private?” He indicated, and none too subtly, that he’d like to do it in private knowing that Eliot Spencer would not want his team knowing any weaknesses in his armor.

 

“Yes, if you come with me please?” As she turned to leave, she continued, “Your friend should make a full recovery, and once he’s settled in his room then you’ll be able to visit, a few of you at a time.”

 

Tom and the doctor went off to discuss Eliot’s medical history, leaving the others to start relaxing now they knew their friend would soon be alright. Mike and Nate naturally gravitated towards each other, moving off to a side.

 

“Sounds like you got to him in time; thank you Michael.” Nate offered his hand to the former soldier.

 

“I owe that man in there my life, several times over, so does Tom. It was the least we could do,” Vance stated honestly.

 

“Is there any of that medical history that we should know,” Nate queried, “Just in case we can’t get hold of you?”

 

Grinning widely, Mike could see that the Nate was asking for Eliot’s safety, and not just to be nosey, but still it wasn’t his information to pass on, and he knew that the younger man would confide in Nate when he was ready. Mike was not about to force the issue. However, it would be prudent that they knew of a few things that might come along, recurrently.

 

“You know I’m not about to tell you that Ford, but I admire your efforts.” He smiled at the former insurance agent. “However, there are some ailments that might recur, so just in case it would be handy if you brushed up on some of the signs and symptoms for things like Malaria, Tuberculosis, repeated concussion, repeated rib breakage, repeated torture, several gunshot wounds, knife wounds, burns...”

 

“Alright, I get it.” Nate’s face was a little paler than when Mike had started his list of previous ailments that the younger man had suffered in his adult lifetime.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

“Okay Doc, what can I help you with?” Tom turned towards the doctor before posing his candid question.

 

“Your friend has major concussion, signs of severe hypothermia which has settled particularly badly in his lungs. Can you tell me why that might be an issue for him?” Equally as bluntly the doctor made her demands.

 

“He’s had tuberculosis, and that left his lungs quite badly scarred. He usually ends up with pneumonia, even if he just starts out with a cold.” Tom Shelley had known the tough retrieval specialist for almost 20 years, knew most things about him, both health wise and personally.

 

“I’ll adjust his meds accordingly. Don’t worry, we’ll get him back on his feet.”

 

“Do you think his history of TB will cause his lungs more stress with this hypothermia, Doc?” Tom countered her reply with a question of his own.

 

The dark haired doctor was petite and pretty. Of course she was in her scrubs and white coat, almost like someone had vomited on her own clothes, so she’d had to change. _I wonder who might have done that?_

 

“It might, but we’ll get him on a stronger steroid based medication to strengthen his lungs. Then use antibiotics to kill off anything nasty, that might be potentially lurking around in there.” Smiling for the first time that night, the doctor seemed more human all of a sudden. As though she’d only looked at the man before her for the first time. “We’ll take the very best of care of Mr. Daniels. Thanks for your help….”

 

“Tom, Tom Shelley.” His grin couldn’t have been any wider, though he was trying to calm it down. He’d never been a fan of his dimples, though he knew the ladies certainly were. “I run the Roadhouse up on Grand Lake.”

 

“Of course, I thought I’d seen you before. I’m Sarah Greene.” Their hands fell apart, and she turned towards the Emergency Ward, where he assumed Eliot was resting, or causing chaos; either being entirely possible with him. Tom turned and headed back to the waiting room. Grinning from ear to ear.

 

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

He felt like an elephant had sat on his chest. Maybe he was still sat there. Why was he having so much trouble concentrating on simply breathing; why was that so hard?

 

Where was he? It wasn’t cold any more. In fact, it was almost too hot. What could he last remember? Why couldn’t he remember what he’d done, where he was, and why he was so warm?

 

A loud beeping noise sounded. His eyes flew open and all hell let loose when the light penetrated his eyelids. Concussion, Vance, Shelley, Savage, and the mountains, all flooded back to him. Then, there’d been other voices, all sounded close by and hurried.

 

Turning his head had caused him considerable pain. Even with his eyes open, the scene around him was still fuzzy. He was clearly in hospital; the smell, the bright white-ness. All confirmed it for him, not to mention the piercing alarm of monitors sounding that were currently attempting to deafen him.

 

He felt like he was underwater. Everything was blurred or warped through his ears. If only he could get out of all these wires that were holding him down. More alarms began to sound. Before he could wrestle himself upwards on his bed, he was surrounded on both sides. Women, from the feel of their hands on his upper arms, encouraging him back onto the bed.

 

“Mr. Daniels, you need to lay back down.” A voice spoke loudly, and close to his head. The voice reverberated and made his head vibrate. Lying back down was the easiest way to make her stop talking.

 

“Ok… Shush.” He mumbled, easing himself back down onto the bed.

 

Those gentle hands tucked his sheet back around him, even though he was feeling decidedly warm still. He decided to interrogate his captor while he had her there.

 

“Where… am I?” he croaked.

 

“Your friends brought you in, Granby Medical Center.” That was a start; now if only she could tell him why he felt like death warmed over. _What on earth had he done now?_

 

The voice was back, “If you settle back down, and do as your nurse asks you then I’ll give you the facts.” Relentlessly he tried to relax. Clearly his breathing was bad as he felt an oxygen mask being attached over his nose and mouth. He hated the jelly smooth plastic he could feel on his face. It was too hot for this thing stuck to his face. Though his attempt to remove it was met with resistance from the voice.

 

“You need the oxygen Mr. Daniels, please leave it where it is.”

 

“Aha, I see you’re awake Mr. Daniels. Or do you prefer Eliot?” Finally, someone who might be able to give him an idea of why he was actually there; practically strapped to this bed with wires and machines. Nodding his head in accent to her choice of monikers for him was another mistake entirely. The throbbing in his head nearly shook his eyes out of their sockets. He had a feeling that this was another concussion. _He just couldn’t recall quite how he’d received this one._

 

“I’m Dr. Sarah Greene. You’re in the Granby Medical Center. Brought in by two friends who found you out on the trailhead. Seems you’d fallen into a ravine. Banged your head up good and proper.” Okay, that sounded in no way familiar. Where on earth were the team? He couldn’t imagine that they would have left without him.

 

“As you were out there alone, we’ve no idea how long you were unconscious. Though you told your medic friend Tom that you’d gone out after 7am. So we concluded you were out in the elements for around 8 hours. Which is also why your chest is hurting you.” Really, that was odd. Had he been on a job?

 

The hands were back, adjusting wires and placing a thermometer in his ear. It made the pressure he could feel in his head exacerbate. Squeezing his eyes closed tighter made the pain come back.

 

“Stay with me Mr. Daniels, we need to ask you some questions. Then you can see your friends, if that helps?”

 

“’kay…” he replied. _Anything, just stop talking and get Tom in here_ , he thought as he slipped back into the welcoming pain free darkness.

 

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

 

“When can we see him?” Parker asked no one in particular, for the third time. She was beginning to fret, even more than she had been previously. Her concern for their teammate was growing with every passing minute. She felt awful for her part in his accident. No matter what anyone said, she knew that she had pushed him too far the night before. Her nasty comments had undoubtedly sent him to Colorado earlier than planned, giving him time to head up on the Trail before meeting his friends. It was all her fault. She’d have to live with that, no matter how well he might recover with time.

 

The truth was Parker truly didn’t understand herself; what had caused her outburst the previous night? _She couldn’t explain herself, and therefore how could she defend herself to the others?_

 

It was going to take some groveling to fix this with Eliot, she knew that and she needed to do some deep searching within herself to work out why she’d lashed out at him.

 

He’d been gruff the previous few days. The last job had been no different than their usual gigs. However, she did suppose the hitter had taken a few more hits, during those last two days, than was entirely acceptable for anyone. Even the hitter hurt, as Sophie had explained to her.

 

She barely noticed the doctor and nurse approaching their corner of the waiting room. It appeared that Eliot has woken up; they were explaining that he was agitated and confused when he first came round. They managed to calm him down. Though his pain levels seemed too high, so they’d given him a very mild painkiller along with his other required medications.

 

She held back when the nurse invited them to wait with Eliot. They felt a friendly voice would be more useful when he next woke. She didn’t think her voice would be the friendly one to which the staff referred.

 

“Come on, Parker,” Sophie turned to say from the door. The others had filed out, leaving just them. “You know he’ll want to see you, and make sure we’re all safe before he rests properly.”

 

What Sophie had said was true, but Parker truly didn’t feel deserving of the man’s care and kindness right then. Of course she wanted to be there. She just didn’t feel she _deserved_ to be there.

 

Moving slowly, she followed the matriarch into a private ward where Eliot lay on one of the twin beds inside. The other was thankfully empty, so they could all visit at once.

 

He looked so pale; dark circles under his eyes. He was shivering, which they assured them was a good sign. He was warm to the touch, Sophie shared with them all after leaning to kiss him on the forehead.

 

She briefly considered following suit but was conscious of everyone watching her. Instead she shuffled closer, head down, and she touched his arm. Not a poke, like she normally did to play with him. This time she laid her fingers flat upon his right hand; she too was surprised at the warmth Sophie had spoken of, as the shivering body before her was supposed to be suffering from exposure to the cold. Before she could ask her question, Eliot’s fingers folded around her smaller hand, confusing her even more.

 

“Eliot?” She spoke, drawing attention from the others who had taken their eyes off the pair briefly. “He’s waking up.” She shared with them, her first smile in a whole day. Turning back to him, she leaned closer. “Sparky, are you back with us?”

 

“O’… course darlin’,” his voice sounded gruff and croaky. It was also muffled because of the oxygen mask.

 

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

Nate was visibly moved by the display before him. It was entirely unlike Parker to be so mean - she just simply didn’t have that malice installed within her. The fact that Eliot awoke when Parker touched him, called him by her pet name for him, and hey voila, he awakes. It was almost too close to the fairy tale.

 

His smile managed to catch Sophie’s attention; her face also drawn into a smile – the one that went all the way up to her eyes. They were glistening too when she stared back at him. _What was it about good news that made everything seem so possible?_

 

Eliot started to stir, a little agitated. Vance stepped forward to stand by Parker. Nate let him carry on, having considerable more history with the younger soldier. He watched as Mike leaned closer, his massive right hand lay upon Spencer’s shoulder, his left leaning on the headboard of the hospital bed. He spoke quietly, assumedly not to hurt the cowboys pounding headache; the one that naturally accompanied concussion.

 

“Welcome back Eliot. You had us worried.” The elder soldier explained. “Tom and I picked you up off the Trailhead. Thought you were meeting us in the bar?” Muted chuckles were heard around the room, as they all found the officer’s banter helpful to keep things light.

 

“Sorry…went for walk… clear my head.”

 

“Well, whatever. It’s good to see you back with us.”

 

Nate took his chance to step forward to the other side of the bed. He didn’t want Eliot thinking they weren’t all there for him.

 

“How are you feeling, Eliot?”

 

“Like crap… chest ‘n head hurt.” The younger man moved his head and tried to look up at him. Nate could see how much effort it was taking him. While it was lovely to see him back with them, it was pulling on his own paternal emotions. _Why when he looked at the tough guy before him, did it pull at his own heartstrings?_

 

“Parker…” it was like Eliot had only just remembered she was there. “Okay?” he asked. He clearly spotted the bubbly blonde was sullen and had tears on her cheeks.

 

That was the last straw seemingly for Parker. She burst into tears and Alec stepped forward and pulled her into a comforting embrace.

 

“She’s fine, Eliot. We’re all fine, just worried about you,” Sophie spoke up. Everyone’s emotions were so obviously raw from the last few hours of concern and worry for their friend.

 

“’m sorry.” He looked so pale, and his tiny voice so reminded him of Sam. Those last few days when he struggled to speak past his oxygen mask. Nate would have to leave at this rate; he’d come so close to losing another son.

 

“No, nothing to be sorry for. Just get some rest and get better soon.” Nate continued. “Besides, Parker volunteered to help nurse you back to full health.” That got everyone’s attention. “Fresh mountain air to recover. I just know you’ve got to have somewhere to stay nearby, right?” That was sure to cause them all laugh aloud; a healing sound and great to hear in a room that was previously so somber.

 

Leaning closer, Nate whispered to the hitter. “You don’t mind, do you?” before winking and moving back to see a huge smile appear on the hitter’s face.

 

Nate was no counselor, but he knew enough about life to see that there was a connection between those two. They were skilled in many things, but the art of communication was clearly still one they both needed to work upon. Parker was pushing him about Moreau, so he’d tell her what he’d done. Then it was out in the open, nothing more to hide or be ashamed about. Those were the things that kept him from pursuing a private life, with someone who maybe could understand some of the wilder and more dangerous things about him. Someone who maybe was equally as wild herself? Nate didn’t fancy himself a matchmaker, but Sophie would have excelled at it. Now that he’d planted the seed, he could see the cogs turning in her head before their visit was over.

 

They would leave the next morning. Back to Portland, away from the fresh mountain air of the Rockies and back to the hustle and bustle of City living. No doubt that would visit once more, especially with an open invite from Tom Shelley. Nate thanked the medic and his cohort, for their part in rescuing Eliot from himself. He would love to get them all roaring drunk and get them to spill all their stories from over the previous two decades. He doubted it would ever happen, but if only wishing made it so.

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

 

Nate, Hardison and Sophie had departed the following morning. They left Parker, true to her word, at Eliot’s bedside. By all accounts Vance stayed a few days longer, using the Roadhouse as his base, but he and Tom spent considerable time at the center with Parker and Eliot. Finally, Tom had driven Parker up to Eliot’s cabin, so they could ensure it was ready for their convalescing patient to retire up there for a few weeks recovery. Naturally, they found the place to have everything that was required, including a well-stocked larder of tinned goods. A local shop would provide all the fresh goods they needed and keep them supplied regularly.

 

Tom spent much of his spare time at the hospital in the first week, his loyalties split between his friend and his beautiful doctor, Sarah. It would appear that a budding friendship had been sparked during Eliot’s treatment. Naturally only time would tell how they would get along together. Eliot’s strength began to return daily; first he developed a nasty cough, which made his concussion hurt more than any bump to the head had any right to.

 

After a week of concentrated care in the medical center, Eliot had been permitted to return to his local home. Accompanied by his nurse, and newly appointed shadow, Parker, with orders for complete rest and recuperation. Fresh air to be taken in while seated outside only; and only for short periods to begin with. This would either kill or cure their relationship.

 

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

First night back in his cabin. He always rested better in his own comfortable bed. The team was content enough that he was going to make a full recovery, to have left him alone… well, almost alone. Instead of hiring a nurse, Parker had offered to stay and help him with anything he needed. She was still clearly wracked with guilt - unnecessarily of course - and Eliot would ensure this time was used to make Parker understand that clearly.

 

He settled back against his headboard with a book in his hand, although he was hardly reading it. He was using his spectacles and even those were causing his head to ache. Rather than read, he found himself thinking about the petite thief, about how she had made him feel before his accident. Not to mention what it might mean now that she was here alone with him.

 

Would he ever tell her how he felt? There were times when he thought he might, especially times like this, when they were alone and unlikely to be interrupted. Like their time on the mountain, in the ice cave; he had considered telling her there and then. However, their discovery of Alan Scott’s body had naturally changed his mind immediately.

 

They both shared so many traits and strengths, similar in their outlook on their work and life in general. He knew it from early on in their time working together. Though it naturally took time for them to fully trust each other enough to share their true characters with each other.

 

A noise from by the door interrupted his thoughts. A tiny creek from an old floorboard, something only a finely tuned ear might pick upon.

 

"Are you going' to tell me why you're just standing there, staring at me, Parker?" Eliot asked gently. "And, why aren't you in your bed?”

 

"I… I wanted to… needed… I had to tell you I’m sorry.” Tears sprung forward from the thief’s eyes, pouring down her cheeks unceremoniously and without control. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be so horrible to you,” she attempted to control herself, and calm down all this sobbing. “Then, when I thought I’d lost you, I…” That didn’t help. The tears fell rapidly from her eyes, there didn’t seem to be any way to stop them.

 

“C’mere darlin’,” Eliot’s voice sounded every bit as weak as he felt. “Sit down.”

 

Without moving, she continued, “Why are you being nice to me?" said Parker with such innocence in her voice. “It’s all my fault that you were so ill again.”

 

“No, Parker,” Eliot tried to raise his body, which results in another coughing fit, and brought the blonde instantly closer, armed with a glass of ice chips to soothe his throat.

 

“Just stay where you are Eliot, and try to swallow some of these.” Parker sat down on the edge of the bed and reached forward with a spoon of ice chips. Eliot knew she’d found this suggestion on the Internet, and after checking with Shelley, she’d obtained the ice while Eliot had still been installed in the medical center.

 

“S’not your fault.” He stubbornly battled through, for both their sakes. “I fell, Parker, it was a stupid accident.” Eliot knew he couldn’t hold a long conversation just yet, but it was incredibly important that Parker hear, and understand, that this was not her fault.

 

“But you were so angry when you left.” She looked like a child when she sat there with a cup in one hand and a spoon in the other. “And, that was definitely my fault.”

 

“Darlin’, I wasn’t angry when I left, I was hurt.” Eliot began to explain, before realizing this was going to be a much longer conversation that he might be able to manage at this stage.

 

“I don’t get it. You’re hurt all the time and you just keep going.” Parker tilted her head to the right, clearly pondering on Eliot’s words. “What was different this time?”

 

“Physical pain is one thing Parker, but when your feelings hurt, when you feel like your heart…” He paused before taking a deep breath in, “…well, it’s just different, s’all.”

 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about what I’d said. I talked with Sophie and she helped me to understand that people can get hurt in different ways. I suppose I’ve never had anyone to love, or hurt.” Cautiously looking up from her fidgeting hands, she chanced another look at her friend, before continuing, “...before you.”

 

At some point Eliot had moved from his bed and was now standing, leaning heavily against the wall next to it. “Nah Parker, I think it’s because you didn’t let anyone love you before now.”

 

She moved towards him, straight into his open arms, her head rested against his torso. “I didn’t know what to say when Sophie and Nate told me you were hurt.” Sniffling and sobbing was all he could hear, before her muffled voice could be heard once more. “… and, when they got to you and we had to wait for news….”

 

“Shush darlin’, it ain’t worth worrying about now. I’m fine, see?” He opened his arms and lifted her chin carefully with one hand. Now eye to eye with, her he continued. “Look at me. I’m doing fine darlin’, and I’m here now.”

 

“Okay.” She nodded her head, sniffling her tears, while reaching for a tissue on the bedside cabinet. He instantly wished she was back against his chest, wrapped up in his arms.

 

*

*

 

EPILOGUE

 

 

. .o.0.o. .

 

 

 

Parker stepped forward from the shadows, stealing his breath and heating his body from the core through to his skin. All of a sudden, he felt his defenses began to fall, turning to mush. Before he could take in all the oxygen that his body needed, she stepped closer and melted into him. He felt her against his naked chest and began to feel her heartbeat, not just hear it.

His hands were wrapped around her back, pulling her closer. She could feel her body tremble, yearning for all the time they’ve wasted, time that they would never get back. It was time to make up for all those nights spent dreaming of a man who spent his daytime only feet from her. Five long years of friendship, building towards this period in their lives.

 

Her eyes were so deep and full of emotion; she was barely even aware that her tears were still falling down her cheeks. He wanted to kiss them away, and make sure they never come back to bother her again. He could barely draw them away, but he had to, before he overstepped and ruined this magical night too early.

 

He looked away, but only to her lips. It was his undoing, as she moistened her lips with her tongue. No longer able to control his desire, he planted a kiss upon her soft and delicious lips. He put a hand on her face, the other pulling her closer, as he deepened the kiss, almost ready to demand entry for his tongue.

 

Holding back, he tried to soften his desire, not wanting to scare the timid little thief. She had her hands in his hair, gently caressing the areas safely away from his injury. On any other day he could lift her with one arm, and take her wherever he wanted. Wherever they wanted to go.

 

He paused before he lost complete control - and boy was that hard.

 

“Sorry,” Eliot spoke softly, whispered his apology almost directly onto her lips. “I’m sorry.” He continued to apologize as he pulled away, to gauge her reaction to his forward behavior.

 

“Don’t be sorry. I liked it.” Parker spoke shyly.

 

“You did?” Eliot had never felt quite so unsure of himself. Well, maybe not since he was sixteen years old. His smile spread all across his face, and he was quite sure that he’d already given the game away concerning his feelings.

 

“I did.” Parker’s gentle voice trembled on his skin, as she tip-toed up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “It was lovely, so gentle.”

 

He was surprised by her description, surprised by her response to his kiss, surprised by his bodies response to her touch, to her tears, to her smile.

 

Pain erupted in his chest, causing him to cough, reminding them both that he was recovering from a serious head injury and hypothermia. He gently dropped back onto the bed. His hands went to hers, hung down by her sides.

 

“You should be in bed,” Parker fussed over him, “I’m sor….”

 

“Don’t dare apologize.” Taking a deep breath into his damaged lungs, Eliot paused before he could continue. “It was all my fault.”

 

“I should let you rest.” Parker spoke timidly, almost like she felt out of place. Like she was looking for an exit during a bank job.

 

“Hey, like I said,” Eliot took her small and gentle hand in between his calloused ones. “My fault.”

 

“You need to get lots of rest, that’s why I’m here.” Parker bent lower to place a tender kiss on his forehead.

 

 

. .o.0.o. .

 

 

It wasn’t a kiss goodbye or a kiss goodnight. More of a promissory kiss, to remind him that she would want to do this again when he was better, when he was further healed, and more ready for her next time. She certainly felt that she was ready, certainly ready to explore the next stage with Eliot Spencer.

 

 _How did one convey their readiness state to an interested party?_ Now, there was a question for Sophie, but she felt there was little time left to formulate her response, as the subject would raise its hand before much longer at this rate.

 

“Parker, will you stay with me?” She almost didn’t hear him, his voice sounded so small and so unlike him, so innocent: and yet, not innocent in the slightest.

 

“If you would like me to,” she answered carefully, guarding herself against… well, she had no idea what she was being so guarded about. Her body was telling her to go for it, written in large neon lettering.

 

 

. .o.0.o. .

 

 

“Please.” He confirmed. Pulling her with his hand, he encouraged her onto the bed and into his arms, laying her next to him rather than on top of him.

 

Pulling her closer he felt her heart beat in time with his own. He was convinced their hearts were beating in sync, which of course they wouldn’t have been. He felt as though his heart might pound right out of his chest, whereas she felt so calm to him.

 

Framing her face with his hands, he turned to his side so they could face each other, her arm resting across his hip. He stroked her hair while he scrutinized her eyes, and every inch of her face. He knew it well enough already, from all those stolen glances at work, and all the time he’d been able to watch her gracefulness over the past few weeks. A place he’d never thought he’d be able to share with her.

 

Moving forward he couldn’t resist the opportunity to kiss her once more, and his lips found hers easily enough in the dim light. Parker’s feather-light fingertips ran up his arm and he began to shiver once more. He was so reactive to her touch. He had to stop this before his control was lost and gone forever.

 

Taking her hand in his, he spun her around and snuggled her back up against him, tucking her head in under his chin. They pulled the quilt over themselves and he wrapped his arms around her, entirely engulfing her in his embrace.

 

 

. o.0.o. .

 

 

In the darkness their cuddle felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. She wished she could extend the night just so she could stay close to him for longer, safe in his embrace. His arms wrapped right around her brought a peace she’d never known before, a calming of the storms in her heart. It was him who gave her hope for the future. In his embrace she started to believe that there was nothing out there to fear, that all there was out there was sunshine, beautiful trees and kind people.

 

Together they slept most contentedly. The most comfortable and restful sleep they’d had in a very long time.

 

 


End file.
